Mirror Image
by SpecialAgentZiva
Summary: What is reality, and what is fiction? It's hard to stay true to one's heart when things have gone so badly. And it all starts with the girl. The countdown's on, and there's only so long before the grand finale. Take a bow, Castle. You've reached the end.


**A/N: This is not a story with a happy ending.**

**Okay, yeah, so maybe that's not the nicest way to greet you readers. Let me try again. Hey, this is my first time writing for Castle. I'm struggling a bit with the characters so any pointers would be nice. But, back to my first sentence, please do not expect happiness, joy, and love. There will be time for that, yes, but... well, you'll have to see where the road takes our characters, will you not?**

**This is set well after the season three finale and is almost completely unrelated, besides there being a new captain to adjust to. That doesn't mean there won't be spoilers, it just means that this isn't shooting-centered. Anyway, I don't own Castle, and please enjoy.**

"_Ohh._"

The sound is a moan in the truest sense, mixing in with the feverish atmosphere. In response, the woman receives a groan, and she smiles at it. She's had a long day at work, and this is the best way to rewind. Still thinking this, she grabs for her partner's shirt, ripping it open. Buttons pop and spew everywhere.

For a second, she feels guilty, and hopes he has an extra shirt in the closet. She likes that one on him. _And so does his wife._

But quickly, she overcomes the guilt as her hands meet his solid chest. He doesn't allow her to linger there for long; his own hands reach forward eagerly, wrapping around her body as he twists them and drops them onto the mattress. They hit the bed with a soft _flump_. He pauses for a moment, breaking their kiss, taking a moment to look directly into her chocolate, brown eyes - but she doesn't care right now. She doesn't want the lovers' stare.

She wants more. Hell, she wants _him_, if she were to be brutally honest.

And he knows it.

So he lets her wind those soft, fragile hands into his greying hair, lets her press her mouth back to his with ferocity he's rarely seen before. He grins into their kiss, glad when he doesn't have to beg for her mouth to open. She's already ready for him.

And he's just about ready to take it to the next level when a noise stops them.

Quickly, the pair break away, him rolling off her. Breathless, they lay, panting, staring at the door. A small boy stands there, clutching a little bear tightly. He looks as though he's been crying (and, considering his voice - the noise that had parted them - had broken into a sob at the end of his words, it was obvious). The mothering instinct in the woman takes over and she springs up.

"You alright, honey?"

Her voice is soft and caring, if a little winded. She's almost completely forgotten the activities of just seconds ago. It's alright. She can make up for lost time. And besides, her son is more important. He is the world to her.

"N-no," he hiccups, tears flooding from his eyes. She wants to grab him, to hold him, to rid him of the river of tears that keep coming and coming and coming… but she cannot. If she does, she'll never get any information, and she needs to know why he's crying. _Just in case she needs to deal with someone._

"What's wrong, Xavi-baby?" She cups his tiny cheek, staring into watery blue eyes.

He hiccups again before pointing towards the hall. Confused, she grabs his hand, and he leads her towards his bedroom, but he stays in the hall. No matter how hard she tugs on his hand, he will not go in. She's on the brink of lifting him into her arms when she realizes: if he won't go in his own sanctuary, something is very, _very_ wrong.

Cautiously, she opens the door.

And damn does she scream.

* * *

><p>The girl is hauntingly familiar.<p>

Fiery red hair fans out behind her, glowing in the half-light. The tips are dyed even redder by blood, blood that has dried before reaching the roots of her hair. Her face is pale, perfect like marble, and, were her eyes to be opened again (they'd been open when she was found, and had been closed out of respect), one would be able to see the crystal blue. There's not a flaw on the young woman's body, save for the obvious self-defence wounds and gunshot to the back.

It's so much like Alexis that she wants to cry.

She's having trouble with this already. Every time she glances in that direction, a wave of nausea hits her, threatening her with 'death by upchucking.' It's a terrible thought. So she does her best not to look.

In truth, she knows it's hard on Lanie, too. It's even effecting Esposito and Ryan. And yet she, being the leading detective and thus in power, forces them to do the preliminaries and scan the room while she leaves, looking to take the witness's statements.

Really, they haven't been here long. She knows this. But it feels like eternity, considering the body in the room. It's not Alexis - the girl is fine, and, besides, they'd already identified the body as a "Vanessa Love." As long as the name isn't Alexis - _or Alex, or Alexandra, or Alexa, or any of that _ - she's fine (well, no, but she's better). But she does find the last name entertaining. It's almost as ridiculous as Castle.

_Castle._ At times like this, she wishes he was here. He could comfort her with his words, tell her it's alright, she's doing fine. But he's not here. And the part that wants him is fighting against the part that doesn't; it's also losing. She knows she can't have him here, not when the victim looks so much like his daughter.

Should that happen, the poor girl wouldn't ever get to leave the house again.

She's on her own. Drawing a deep breath, the detective makes the short walk to the bedroom, where she finds her three witnesses. A young woman, barely in her twenties - Sarah Miller. If she was pale before, she certainly is now. Obviously, she hadn't gotten over the shock of finding a dead body in her toddler's bedroom. Understandable, of course.

Beside her is an older man. Kate imagines that, in his youth, he might've looked like something out of the movies. He's still got the muscle tone, but there are lines on his face. His hair is blond - well, part of it is. Most of it is greying, and the hairline is receding a bit. Still, he is quite handsome, and she understands why the young woman is drawn to him. The age gap (and the fact that the man is married - yes, he admitted to it right away, and she was quite glad for that, it made for less work) is quite a turn-off, though.

Beckett forces herself back on task. She offers a smile to the small, not-really-family, switching her gaze from Michael Reed to the young boy in between them. He doesn't look good. His name is Xavier Miller-Reed, and he's not much more than three years old. His face is smooth, sweet; all of his features are a precise combination of Sarah's and Michael's. There's no missing that they're the parents. Not with the brown hair (his mother's) and the blue eyes (his father's). But that's not what throws her.

He was the one who discovered the body.

Not the one who called it in, maybe, but still, he saw it first. At that age, no child should see a dead body, on TV or in the real world. He's still in shock. The tears have long since dried on the boy's face, but he's struggling to stay awake, and he's not speaking. According to his parents, this isn't good. Xavier likes to talk. He only gets quiet when something's gone extraordinarily wrong.

She forces herself to draw her gaze away from him, forces herself to look at the mother and father. Kate draws a deep breath, puts a sad smile on her face (it's not really a smile, but it'll do), and quietly starts. "Ms. Miller, Mr. Reed, and little Mr. Miller-Reed-" she may as well include the boy, even if he's too young or shocked to care "-I realize this night has been very hard for you, but I need information while it's all still fresh in your minds. Can you tell me exactly what happened before you found the body, and when you found it?"

The woman blushes bright red. Beside her, the man's face mirrors her own, but it is still Sarah Miller that speaks first. She clears her throat awkwardly, gently puts her hands on her boy's ears (strangely enough, he doesn't resist; shock does bad things to the kid). "I- we… heh. Well, after a long day, I came home and put Xavier down. The babysitter left-"

"Babysitter's name, please?" Kate asks in her fake pleasant, professional tone. She vaguely remembers Castle commenting on her ability to be empathetic with the victims, and she wishes she could see him now. She'd throw his compliment back in his face. Not on purpose, but, obviously, she isn't doing too good a job _empathizing_ with anyone, not when her mind is on Castle and Alexis.

Sarah Miller looks irritated that she's been interrupted. "The girl's name is Cora Anne Johnson, she's the next door neighbour. Oh, and you can call me Sarah, by the way."

"Noted."

"Anyway, once Cora left, Michael and I… well, you know. We started kissing and kind of got really into it, so we didn't hear much," if she'd been red before, now the woman was an entirely new intensity. She pauses, frowns, and looked from her toddler to Kate. "D'you have kids, Detective Beckett?"

"Ah, no. Not… not yet."

"Not married either?"

She shakes her head in response. Normally, giving out information like this on a case would be bad news, but she had a faint idea of what the mother was trying to convey, so she went along with it. Sarah looked a bit sad, "That's alright, I'm sure you'll have kids some day. They're sweet, really. And… Xavier, he doesn't know how to get out of his crib. So you've got to understand why we stopped when we heard his voice.

He was crying. I tried to get him to talk but he wouldn't. He just clung on to my hand and kept pulling me towards his room. Naturally, I followed. And… you know the rest. We found the girl. Freaked out. Called you - 911, I guess, is that the same as you? Any way, that's it."

"Do you know this girl at all? Either of you?"

"No," both the replies reach her at once, in complete unison. The detective smiles a bit, but the smile drops as she remembers herself and Castle doing the same thing; speaking at the same time, finishing each other's sentences. She feels guilty, tries to push away the thoughts, but it doesn't work. She can't just _not_ tell him. He'll find out something's up and be in the station in seconds. She'll just have to toe the line very carefully, as to save Castle the pain (and Alexis the inevitable grounding-for-life).

She forces another smile on her face and excuses herself, quickly entering the hall. A quick glance towards Xavier's room has bile rising up at the back of her throat and she quickly turns, fishing for her phone in her pocket. She forces away hesitation and hits number two on her speed dial (number one is Roy, of course). The time that it takes ringing feels like an eternity.

When he picks up, her heart soars, and plummets just as swiftly.

"Beckett! Want to take me up on that earlier offer of a hands-on-"

"Castle," her voice is enough to stop his ranting. She might've laughed at his words another time (and frowned at the innuendo) but now is not the time.

"Castle… we have a bit of a problem."

A pause.

"You don't want to come in today. Don't come, stay home."

Another.

"_Please._"

**A/N: Dun dun dun dun. Oh, just FYI, if I end up switching to past tense on the next chapter, that's because I've gotten irritated with present tense. And don't feel like going back and correcting everything. So... ;p Enjoy it anyway.**


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